He threw his cigarette-case over to her.
“Did you have a good time up North?”
“Yes.”
“I come from there, you know. Logan was furious with you for going. He is really very fond of you, you know.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“He’s very excited just now. He keeps talking about the artistic revolution and the twentieth century, and all that, you know. He has been reading a book called ‘John Christopher,’ and keeps on reading it aloud until I’m sick of it. I believe he thinks he is like Christopher, though I’m sure he’s not, because Christopher could never see a joke. It is all about women, one after another, just left anyhow. It doesn’t sound like a story to me at all.”
“It sounds true,” said Mendel, not paying much attention to what she said.
To his intense relief Logan came in with a frame under his arm.
“Hullo!” he said. “Got back? How did you like the swells?”
“They were good people,” replied Mendel, “and wonderfully peaceful. I don’t think I appreciated it enough while I was there, but it seems very clear and beautiful to me now.”